


“The Story’s End”

by Lady Day (day221b)



Category: Dresden Files (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, POV: Harry Dresden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-15
Updated: 2007-04-15
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:44:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/day221b/pseuds/Lady%20Day
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An ending of sorts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	“The Story’s End”

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd for grammar by the lovely and talented goodiesfan  
> Word Count: ~ over 5,000  
> Warnings: * Major Character death, blatant skull abuse and cursing. Minor spoiler references through out the series with strong references from “What about Bob?” and “Things that Go Bump.”  
> Author Notes: _* Strictly Television 'verse with a loving tip of the hat to the books. This is purely speculative fiction set within the television universe that has already been established to be an alternate universe from the original Dresden Files penned by Jim Butcher. *_  
>  Disclaimer: The Dresden Files belongs to Jim Butcher. I own nothing; this is done purely for my amusement and other-like minded individuals. I make no money from this. _*_

There are surprisingly few details I remember about the day I died. I don’t know if it’s the soul’s way of protecting itself from the trauma of being abruptly and often violently pulled from its home or the fact that once the soul leaves the body the little things such as, say, death don’t seem like such a big deal anymore.

What I do know is that regardless of the reasons why a spirit forgets – the fact remains that it does. There are bits and pieces of scattered memory here and there, but for the most part it’s like the remnants of a forgotten dream. Certain parts are more tangible than others and more often than not, the full impact of the dream is never realized or understood.

I remember lying on the floor of my office-slash-apartment. My body had trembled from the shock of the violence done to it, still trying to play catch-up with my brain that something was terribly wrong.

There was the strong, metallic scent of blood - my own life's blood flowed out of me at what should've been an alarming rate.

I remember my killer…Blaine. That was his name: Edward Blaine. Eddie was an uncommon thug with enough knowledge of the occult to make him dangerous. He also had enough of a temper and muscle to make him deadly. Eddie had come to me in the guise of a would-be client, frantic for me to discover the whereabouts of a cherished sister. The man had gotten past my wards with that song and dance, but it soon became apparent that if there ever was a sister, he hadn't been searching for her. He'd been searching for something important, alright, and thought I'd had it. If I had, then I’d hidden it well. At least that’s the impression I'd gotten from all the noise he'd been making in search of this treasure. Whatever it had been.

And I remember Bob. Of all things, it’s him that I remember most of all. I was so lost in my pain that I hadn't noticed when he first materialized at my side.

When it finally registered that he was there, his voice sounded harsh to my ears. I'd turned my eyes toward him and watched the play of emotion run a gambit across his face. His angry confusion over my lying down on the job and not staggering to my feet to defend our home had been replaced by concern. Out of concern there grew fear as he took in the sight of me sprawled out in front him like some wounded animal.

I'd seen the exact moment the awful realization reached his eyes and I knew that he knew. It wasn’t just that I was badly hurt. I was dying.

He whispered my name. It had been a broken sound. 

_I grimaced through my pain, finding my voice, “You shouldn’t be here, Bob. Bob, you shouldn’t be here.”_

_“Nonsense,” he’d replied softly as he bent down to my eye level._

_“Nonono,” I shook my head. “You d-don’t understand. He can’t find you here. You’re in danger if he sees you. He’ll figure out what you are. Who you are.”_

_“Calm yourself.”_

_Calm myself? What was I? Like twelve? Didn’t he get the seriousness of the situation? That I was trying to protect him?_

_White-hot agony seized me and I squeezed my eyes shut. “Shut up and get back in your skull before you’re noticed,” I hissed._

_He didn’t answer. His silence left me half-relieved, half-terrified that he’d obeyed. That he’d left me alone._

_I opened my eyes._

_He hadn’t moved. Instead he studied me, his expression unreadable. And his eyes…they never wavered from mine. I never noticed how captivating they were or how blue._

_“Hush now.”_

_“Bob, please…” I begged him, blinking back the sting of tears. “It’s not safe.”_

_“I assure you, Harry. We are quite alone.” His eyes were so very blue. They were warm and inviting. They practically glowed with an internal light._

_As we continued to stare at one another, the chaos around us stilled._

_Time stopped._

_It was only us._

_There was no one else in the world--_

_A loud crash startled us both. The spell between us was broken._

_“Liar,” I breathed, grinning up at him; I was in time to see Bob glare menacingly at the whirlwind who was tearing our world apart._

_I noticed with relief and not a little dread that my pain was gone. It could have been from blood loss, but somehow I knew there was more to it than that. Bob had done something. Something he shouldn’t have been able to do. I'd always suspected that he was more powerful than he let on, but even as I had this great epiphany, I felt myself slipping away from him._

_He began to sing._

_His voice was so low that I couldn’t make out the words, but the melody, itself, was like a long-forgotten lullaby. It confused me._

_"W-What--" I whispered, wanting to ask him why he felt singing me to sleep was a good idea._

_He stopped singing and smiled warmly, almost tenderly down at me. I could swear I saw eternity in his eyes. "Sshhh. Close your eyes."_

_For once I didn't growl my defiance over being bullied or tell him exactly where I thought he could stick it. Instead, I found it easy to relax and obey that softly spoken command. With his name on my lips, the mortal coil melted away and I drifted peacefully into the sweet, white Hereafter._

That had been decades ago. And here I was. Back again.

And I was on a mission.

~*~

I materialized and quickly adjusted myself to my surroundings. I was in a grand house, not unlike the home I shared with my uncle after Dad was killed. It, too, was chilly and devoid of warmth.

It almost felt just like home sweet home. I had to say that it brought back so many memories.

I’d scoped the place out several nights in a row and had discovered some interesting tidbits. 1) Blaine was somehow in possession of Bob’s skull. 2) Eddie was now a rich and powerful man. 3) The wards protecting his home sucked. I mean really, really sucked. They were weaker than anything I'd ever managed to construct, even at age eleven. And last, but certainly not least, Eddie was old, sick and as mad as a hatter.

The hows and the whys weren’t all that important to me. I was here for one purpose and one purpose only. Nor did I have time to dwell on the mundane. I was using valuable energy that I'd built up and needed as much of it as I could hold onto for the purpose I had in mind.

Moving through the darkened hallways with practiced ease, I found what I was searching for. Bob’s skull lay dormant on an ostentatiously decorated monstrosity that might have been a table. It could have been a shrine. All I knew was that it was butt-ugly and not a little scary. It looked like it'd try to eat me if I made any sudden movements or displaced the air. The imagined result was akin to something out of a bad Indiana Jones knock-off, but it was completely badass. It looked ready to spring to life at the slightest provocation. I was certain that Bob loved it.

I eyed the table warily, but I’d come too far to turn back now. So I bent down low to summon Bob. It felt a little odd. I was a ghost summoning a ghost.

Suddenly nervous, I wet my lips. I hadn't called or attempted any form of communication after I'd passed on. In fact, I'd toughened my resolve and forcibly ignored him the one time I heard him calling me from beyond the threshold. His will had been switching frequencies at a rapid pace in an all-out attempt to summon one Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, recently deceased and late of Chicago. It might seem a terrible affront to pull something like that, but I'd had my reasons. Important reasons. Reasons that meant business. I'd been charging up my energy, my will, and remaining magic in preparation for this night. Only after ignoring him, I wasn't entirely sure of my reception. So I took a deep breath, or at least some semblance of one.

In life, as in death, our mannerisms don't change. And when I was nervous; I'd always take a deep, cleansing breath and blow it out again. The fact that I didn't have lungs anymore didn’t change the habit.

“Hrothbert of Bainbridge, I summon you.”

He didn’t appear.

Oh, crap.

I wasn't going to panic. Not yet, anyway. I'd simply apply a little logic first. When in doubt, speak louder. “Hrothbert of Bainbridge, I summon you!”

I waited. Still nothing.

O-kay… Still wasn't panicking.

Technically, I wasn’t his master anymore. He didn’t have to respond to me. Only it was Bob and it never stopped me before. I had to try something.

“Yo, Bob! Up and at 'em, lazy bones. Get your ass out here and talk to me!”

Ah, there he was.

Materializing in a swirl of black smoke and golden light, his back was to me. He whipped his head from side to side as he surveyed the room. By the look of things, it had been the right voice, but the wrong surroundings.

I caught glimpses of his profile as he continued to look back and forth. His expression battled between emotions. That frown of his spoke of deep irritation over being so rudely woken up. Those eyes were sharp, alert, _hopeful_ and searching. Confusion marred and furrowed the brow. And all because of my informal, yet all-too-familiar summoning.

He didn't find what he was searching for, and there was little doubt that it was disappointment that made his jaw tighten. With a sigh, he turned around and his posture went ramrod straight when he saw me. If I could trust to appearances, then he'd been taken completely off guard by the sudden sight of me standing so close. His eyes widened and I could hear the small intake of breath that accompanied his surprise. If he had the ability to turn a paler shade of pale, he did so, or at least made a serious effort in that direction. The poor guy, he looked like he’d seen a ghost.

Oh.

Yeah.

Right.

See, even knowing, it’s still a shock to the system sometimes. You don’t actually think of yourself as dead, or living-impaired on the other side. You are just there. You exist. You are. I don’t tend to think about it until I get a reaction like Bob’s or someone runs away screaming bloody murder. Not that I’ve had that much experience with either.

"Hey, Bob," I whispered, and smiled broadly. He was such a sight for sore eyes that I couldn't hold back my goofy grin. It had been too long. I was just so happy to finally see him again.

I wish I could've said that his expression matched mine. Only it didn't.

He was always a quick one. I watched him recover from the initial shock, but observed the expression reflected in those eyes of his transform itself into one of ice. In life I'd been an investigator; it was my job. I had skills along with instincts that were honed from years of observation of the human condition. Bob's mannerisms and body language warned me that he might not have been all that thrilled to see me back. All of that, coupled with his sour expression and I was sure that some might've gone out on a limb and called it a pretty damned good giveaway that my presence was unwelcome. That I needed to steer clear. Detective that I was, I called it a possible clue and kept grinning.

"Well, well, well," he began, his tone both scathing and accusatory. "So you've finally managed to grace me with your presence, I see. It took you long enough. I do so hope the thought of me didn't pull you from anything important."

"Bob,” I began, and let out a small bark of laughter that was sheepish at best. It also contained two-thirds guilty conscience thrown into the mix. “Don't be like that. I had things that needed doing. Big things. Huge."

I watched him watching me. With us standing so close, it slowly began to dawn on me that - his bad mood and usual crankiness aside - there was something off about him. Whatever it was, it was subtle. I eyeballed him for a second or three more, trying to work it out, needing to pinpoint the difference.

He appeared older, maybe. His expression was care-worn. Haggard was a good description. His eyes made up what little natural color he'd always possessed and they seemed several shades paler. There was a hardness around the edges that I didn't much like.

It didn't make sense. Ghosts don’t change once they became, well, ghosts.

"Geez, Bob. You look like hell."

His gaze shifted and his sharp-focused attention was suddenly on my get-up. His appraisal of my wardrobe caused me to look down at myself. It wasn't anything special. Just my normal gray sweatshirt ensemble and jeans. I'd thrown in a dark brown leather bomber jacket for nostalgia's sake, but I hadn't "dressed up" for the occasion by any means. There wasn't a party hat or stray kazoo in sight.

He sneered his disgust. "And you look exceedingly well for a dead man. Same as ever, I see. Even down to your deplorable taste in attire." He gave me an irritated wave, dismissing my fashion sense. "Then again I suppose it should hardly be surprising considering that it's _you.”_

“Ah, Bob…” I was touched by his truthful, if backhanded compliment. The old softy. “I’m touched.”

Bob snarled his reply, baring his teeth at me. “Idiot!”

And our talk broke down at that point.

“What? Bob--“ I began again, but was cut off.

“I mean, really. To think what I’ve suffered through in your absence--”

“Hey, come on, man. It’s not like I had a choice--“

“You left me alone with an imbecile!”

"Heh, I’m sorry?” I apologized, taken aback over the fact that I was apologizing. While I'd expected flak from him, I hadn't expected it quite so soon. He was giving my spectral self hell right out of the starting gate. Although I had to give the guy credit; he deserved a freaking medal over his sheer lack of enthusiasm over my return. Never mind that I'd crossed a threshold for the man or that I made it look easy. He was handling my return with as much grace and loving tenderness as a severely miffed pit bull. “Look, it wasn't like I woke up that morning with some _master plan_ to ruin your day. I'm sorry if I messed up the comfortable routine you had going. I didn't think--"

"No, of course you didn't. You didn’t think at all. You should've taken more care. He was unworthy of you. I took great pains in teaching and instructing you how to protect yourself against all manner of foe, and what do you do? You go and get yourself killed by a villain as inconsequential and with as much intellect as the common village idiot waving about a sharp and pointy stick. Oh bravo, my friend. Well done.”

"Everybody has a bad day."

Bob looked at me, his expression incredulous. "A bad day? A. bad. day. Is that what the school children are calling it these days? How quaint. And here I thought you met your end at the hands of a buffoon!” he snapped. Bob glowered his displeasure, but then he decided to mix it up a little. He chuckled, only there was no humor behind the laughter. “How silly of me.”

I sighed. What could I say? When he was right, he was right. "You're right. I died. I was caught off guard and beaten by an amateur with less skill in the magical arts than a trained monkey. I was tricked, and the bad guy got me. Are you seriously going to hold that over my head from now ‘til kingdom come?"

Bob folded his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes to slits. "Now there's a thought."

Two could play at that game. I folded my arms in return, unwilling to take any crap from him. “Ya done yet?”

He bristled at my indifference to his temper. His tone grew even more deadly-serious, growling, “Hardly. I haven’t even begun...”

His threat made me laugh, releasing the built up tension. I couldn’t help it. “Stars, Bob. I’ve missed you.”

Bob slowly unfolded his arms and relaxed. His combative pose melted away, his expression smoothing over. That, along with his arms back down at his sides made him appear less confrontational and more like his old self. His features softened into one of affection. The fond smile was good to see. “And, I, you. It’s good to see you, too. Welcome back, Harry,” he replied almost tenderly.

It was the first time he called me by name. I don’t know why, but it energized me, feeling the effect of its use along preternatural nerve endings. I wanted to clap him on the back. Pull him close.

Instead we looked down and around, anywhere, but at each other. It was our norm. It was really good to be basking in it once more.

It was not like I could have touched him anyway. Not yet. While we were both ghosts now, it was a little more complicated than that. His spirit was imprisoned to his skull. Mine was free to roam. We were still on two separate planes of existence.

I decided to change the subject. "So how ya doing? He treating you okay?"

"He's charming. The company is divine," he replied wryly, glancing down the hallway toward Blaine's bedroom. "He’s a stimulating conversationalist."

I chuckled at that.

Bob sniffed disdainfully. “He calls me 'Robert.' I imagine he thought himself clever. He does not call me 'Bob.' Never 'Bob.'” He shivered noticeably. “He understands that would not be tolerated.”

The smile I'd been wearing froze on my lips. It had been a long-standing argument between us when I was a kid. “Did you really hate that name so much?”

He pressed his own lips together thoughtfully at my question, taking his own sweet time to answer. After a beat or thirteen, he finally shook his head. “With you I grew accustomed to it. That _man,_...” Bob made that one word sound like he couldn't bring himself to think of Blaine as anything other than an abomination and pointed back in the direction of Eddie's room. “He lost any and all right to it long ago. We are not close.”

It didn't surprise me. He and his masters never were. The only exception that I knew of had been me. It was good to know that some things never changed. Though it must have been terribly lonely for him.

The thought made me want to look away, but I had to remember that was why I was here. I cleared my throat. Tact and a hint of diplomacy were needed for my next question. “So I hear he’s nuttier than a fruitcake."

He hesitated, pursing his lips again. He glanced down at the floor before bringing his eyes back up to meet mine. His manner was a true sign that something was up. Time hadn't dulled my instincts where he was concerned; I recognized his body language immediately. It spoke of a guilty conscience. He looked at me with uncertainty. “Do you approve?”

I squinted at him. What kind of question was that?

“I consider him to be one of my great masterpieces.”

Well, that didn’t sound ominous at all. I took a step back. What was he saying? "Bob?”

I didn’t like the way he was looking at me. His expression had changed, and the look he was favoring me with was almost apologetic with a hint of barely-disguised triumph.

“Bob, what have you done?"

~*~

As I stood listening, it became pretty damn obvious what he'd been doing in my absence.

It made me heartsick.

I couldn't believe it, but I felt sorry for Blaine. His insanity hadn’t happened by itself. It'd been helped along. This madness wasn't the product of a mind slowly losing touch with reality, but the result of a seriously pissed off ghost with time on his hands.

Since the age of eleven I'd known that it wasn't a very smart move to get on the bad side of Bob. And it was abundantly clear that Eddie had. I’m sure the minor little issue of his causing my death hadn’t helped matters along in his favor. Bob had always been protective of me.

The spirit who stood in front of me, and who was currently watching my reaction to his news, had been stripped of his mortality along with much of his former glory ages ago, but it could never be said that he was powerless.

I studied him with a new, terrible insight. ”I thought the curse forbade you from harming anybody, least of all the one that possessed your skull.”

“Since when has my droning on ever harmed anyone? I’ve done it for a number of centuries. It passes the time that I would otherwise spend idle. And I do believe it was you who often mentioned my infatuation with the sound of my own voice.”

”So you gas-lighted him?” I held up a finger in warning, pointing my irritation directly in his face. “You bent the rules. You knew what you were doing!”

“Oh, pish. It's not as though I had him disembowel his children or fling himself underneath a bus.”

“No, having him fling himself under a bus would’ve been a mercy.”

“This is far more satisfying. Really, you should try it.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “It provides me countless hours of entertainment. The mind is such fragile little thing. "

“Dammit, Bob!" I shouted. "He trusted you!”

“That was his mistake. If by some means he comes to his senses, the mistake will not be repeated.”

"And he could've just..." I stopped myself, having a hard time saying it. "He could've just smashed your skull to pieces."

"It was possible, I daresay, but highly unlikely. The man's a simpleton to be sure, but even he recognizes a good thing when he sees it. I'm far too valuable a prize to be treated with such careless and violent abandon. Regardless it was a risk I was willing to take."

I shook my head. “I never wanted this.”

“And I never wanted to lose you in the manner in which I did. To have you slip through my fingers while I could do nothing but bear witness to your passing. We could've had centuries, Harry. Our time together was cut short and by that waste of a Neanderthal. Now we both must deal with the consequences in our own fashion.”

Edward Blaine was a broken man. Bob had done a number on him. It was unsettling that he'd chipped away at the man with a single-minded ruthlessness for almost as many years as I had been permitted to live. It was hard to fathom.

I wondered if the human mind made an audible ‘pop’ when it snapped. I also wondered if my coming back had been a mistake. That it had been in vain. His calculated efforts at driving Blaine batshit had thrown me. This was a darker side to my genie than I was accustomed to.

It was something that I always took for granted when I'd been alive. Hrothbert of Bainbridge had been an evil, maniacal bastard in life. He had been dark and cruel and cunning.

In my lifetime, there had only been Bob. That man had been my teacher, and later my truest and dearest friend. He'd been my constant companion long before my uncle and I had our falling out that had ultimately resulted in my self-defensing his diabolical carcass to death.

Bob had been the sounding board for my crazy schemes and my sometimes-conscience when he sensed me wanting to come up with a dark solution to a problem, when the temptation to use black magic was too great.

He was predictable and as cranky as hell on a good day, but even at his worst he was always tame and somewhat accommodating.

Hrothbert was not.

And this Robert character… Well, he was a whole other crazy kettle of fish.

Sensing something of my internal struggle, he growled low in his throat. "And please spare me any of your life lessons in morality, Dresden. My schemes protected your lady friend. The police officer and her offspring.”

“Murphy? Is she?” I hadn’t thought about Murphy in a long time.

“She lives. She’s retired from police work now, obviously. Her daughter, Anna, followed in her footsteps…or tried to at any rate. The responsibility she felt to fill her mother’s shoes was a heavy burden. Often she feared she was not cut out for the life she’d chosen. For much of her career she felt unworthy and was in constant need to prove herself to her superiors. I often feared that if she continued on in that vein her life would be a short one.

"Thankfully, her luck held and she's come into her own. She is an exceptional woman.”

I wondered how he knew all this and then decided that I had enough on my plate with the revelations I’d already been given.

“You saved them? With this?” I waved my arms around, at a loss. I didn’t even know what I was supposed to call what he'd done.

“Your Murphy discovered evidence that it had been Edward who'd taken your life. She attempted to prove it. She was getting too close and he planned to have her eliminated. I dare not speak of what he had in store for her little girl. With my wisdom, counsel and considerable influence over him, it took little effort for me direct his malice inward. My endeavors drew his attention away from them.”

“There were other ways,” I pleaded with him as though I could stop what had already happened.

“The High Council would do _nothing!_ ” he spat angrily. “Mortal justice could do nothing. It was within my power. Regardless of what you might think, I deemed it a necessary evil. Shall we agree to disagree on this matter and be done with it?”

I couldn't answer. I didn’t know what to say. What Bob had done…I had nothing. For good or ill, he was bound to Blaine. He was Eddie’s to do with as he wished. He shouldn’t have had the power to do harm to the one that possessed his skull like that. It was a completely unexpected act of betrayal. There was no way to see it coming. Bob should've been his greatest ally, only he was his bitterest of enemies.

I’d gotten a taste of what that felt like. Once upon a time I thought he'd turned on me, too. While he hadn’t, and had, in fact, risked everything in order to protect my life up to and including sacrificing his own fledgling life force to save me, the pain those memories caused was a powerful thing.

And he was doing it again, pulling another lame-brained, half-baked stunt to avenge my murder.

Only _this_ time I feared what kind of retribution was in store for him if this little act of rebellion was discovered. His continued allegiance to me and to those I cared about long after my death was heartwarming, if a little misguided.

Not for the first time, I wondered what he saw in me that made him take these reckless chances with his own existence. What had I ever done that gave me so much power over him? I’d never been accused of being overly bright, least of all by Bob.

My continued silence must have felt like a slap in the face because he turned away from me, his manner stung. "While this little sojourn into days-gone-by has not been without its high points; I must ask. What are you doing here, Harry? If you haven't already guessed, I am quite busy."

I shook myself from my own conflicting emotions with effort. Damn. While I had been standing around debating back and forth with myself, I'd been wasting valuable time and energy that I didn't have. If I was going to do this thing, it had to be now or never. I'd had a speech prepared and waiting in the wings. Only to be perfectly honest, it had all kinda been shocked out of me.

"Yeah. About that...I’m glad you brought that up, actually." I pressed my lips together. Taking a deep breath, I continued on. "I'm a ghost with unfinished business and I need your help."

The effect my words had over him was instantaneous. He lost his defensive posture, and moved forward. He eyed me with concern. "Anything," he breathed. "You need only ask.”

After hearing what had been going on in my absence I was driven by a new kind of urgency. I had to get him out of there.

"I've come to give you peace,” I said, and motioned to his skull lying on that creepy-assed table. With effort I tried not to shudder at the damn thing. The table, not the skull. "I've figured out a way to set you free from the curse."

Bob smiled at my admission. It was a soft smile. His eyes seem to brighten with an unnatural light. It caused him to look away before his emotions got the better of him. When he turned back to face me again his expression had gone south.

I swear that guy’s got eternal PMS.

He laughed a little self-deprecatingly. "While your efforts on my behalf are endearing and quite touching, you know as well as I do that there is no peace for me. I was not made for happy endings. We've been over this before."

I waved away his comments with a gesture, scoffing at his words. "Once cursed, always cursed. In your life, your sins were considerable. I get it already. Oh boy, do I ever get it. Only, I've been working on that. You know, working at smoothing things over."

"You cannot be serious." Bob looked at me, his expression dubious. After a beat of trying to stare twin holes into my forehead, he rolled his eyes. He knew me well enough to know when I was sincere. He shook his head. "Yes, of course you are. Harry--"

“I found a loophole!" I exclaimed. "Granted, it’s a tiny one.” I spoke faster and faster, my words speeding up from the excitement. What could I say? Enthusiasm, that's me.

He was eyeing me warily as though I was the one in need of the rubber room. Like hell. I wasn't the one who'd flipped his lid. Okay, maybe I had a little. “Remember the time when you were stolen? Justin and his double? You sacrificed yourself to save me.”

Bob shook his head again in denial. He obviously didn’t like where this was heading.

Tough. He was a big boy; he could take it.

I clapped my hands together for emphasis. “It was a selfless act! No greater love, man,” I urged. “Think about it. Freedom!”

When he spoke next, it was with no small amount of respect. His words were spoken deliberately, slowly and thoughtfully as though he chose them all with care. “While I thank you for your efforts to intercede on my behalf, I regret that there will be no satisfactory conclusion to this matter; this conversation must be laid to rest. Forgive me, but I humbly decline your offer." He moved back as though to give me space for some kind of intricately choreographed disappearing act. "I believe that it is now time for you to depart, Harry. Go home. Rest.”

He might've stepped back, but I wasn't going anywhere. I stood my ground. Where was home, anyway? "What is with this bloody damn need of yours to keep sending me off to sleep, you friggin' power-mad sadist? Unfinished business, remember? I can't rest until you come with me."

He blinked and then shivered. “I would if I could, Harry. Only you forget that there are presences – beings…”

He was terrified, plain and simple. I didn't blame him. He had every right to be.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know all about them, too. They don’t like you, yadda, yadda, yadda. But listen, I’ve been working on them, too. They really aren't so bad once you get to know them," I encouraged.

Actually, they were. In fact, they might have been worse. Though I thought I’d worn them down enough that Bob was relatively safe as long as he didn't make any sudden movements or try to rock the boat and go all badass sorcerer over everybody.

Of course, I was talking about Bob here.

"Hm." He sounded unconvinced.

"I didn't say that it was easy, now did I?"

He was silent, considering.

"Have I ever steered us wrong?"

"A good many times and with a considerable amount of reckless enthusiasm. Disturbing, really, if you want my honest opinion." 

I opened my mouth to protest, but he stopped me with a glance.

"Shall I list them according to a certain timeline or alphabetically?"

It had all been said with a smile and fake cheerfulness of manner that rankled, but I wasn't about to be deterred. I could feel the energy I was expending burn deep within me. The effort to remain a visible entity for this long was draining my power. If I was going to convince him it had to be soon before there was nothing left but embers.

"Bob, all clowning aside, I really don't have much time. I'm not bound to my skull. It takes a lot more energy to manifest like this. Which is why it's taken me so long come to you. You need to make a choice right here and right now. I'm asking you to come with me. I don't know if there will be any second chances. This might be the last time we ever have a chance to make this right, or for us to see each other."

The gears were grinding away again, and I could all-but see the unhappy little hamster power-sprinting along on the wheel inside Bob's head. I knew he was calculating his odds of survival and weighing his options against moves and countermoves, worrying about measures and countermeasures, fretting over machinations, fearing the unknown as well as the known, and stars only knew what else.

It was hard for me not too grow impatient - to tap my feet impatiently or point at the non-existent wristwatch I wasn't wearing, but I kept silent. I had to. As much as I needed him to accept my offer, I let him work the decision out on his own. I needed his blessing. My plan wouldn't work otherwise.

In the end he sighed the sigh of the long-suffering. With the air that only the much put upon can accomplish, he spoke, "Oh, very well." He held up a finger in warning to me. "However, do realize that this is a very bad idea on your part. It is unlikely to go unnoticed. The High Council won't take kindly to your plans regarding myself. Consider yourself lucky if you manage this without bringing down their wrath upon your head..."

He continued with his lecture. I let him prattle on, completely unfazed.

The High Council wasn't going to do a damn thing. Their inaction in response to my murder would see to that. Besides, this wasn't an impulsive move on my part. I'd been planning and plotting for some time, going over even their heads to secure Bob's freedom. There were much higher powers out there than the High Council. If Ancient Mai had a problem, she could take it up with them if she dared.

"...and furthermore, realize that I'm going to regret this. And even if we do manage to somehow escape unscathed I will take great pleasure in making certain that if I don't regret it, then you will.”

I would have hated to see him strain himself from the excitement. Still, aside from his tendencies toward diabolical lunacy, that was my Bob and I wouldn't have him any other way. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I hear you harping." I waved away his bitching, used to this kind of song and dance from him. "I'll bear that in mind," I replied with a drawl. "Now, hold out your arms.”

He paused for a moment, long enough to purse his lips at the request, but otherwise he did so without question. I was amazed at the absolute trust he was displaying. It was so unlike him. He exposed the shackles on his wrists that bound him to his skull.

My hand hovered just above his and I swallowed compulsively, steeling myself for what I was about to do. Oh, this was going to hurt. "You're going to love this," I said, and offered him a crooked grin for his pains. "Papa's got a whole new bag of tricks."

Power, raw, ancient, and terrible coursed from me to Bob in an unending circuit. The magic of the ages and dark, malevolent forces sparred and fought violently for dominance between us.

The heat was intense, but I held my hands steady. I was ready to burn out if necessary to lift the curse that bound my friend.

Old magic and new hope continued to flare and spark between us. It flowed and connected us to everything that ever was or could be. After an unknowable time the shackles that bound his wrist fell away. They disappeared before they reached the floor.

He staggered. To my astonishment and joy, I was able to catch him and hold him close.

I felt tentative arms, stiff at first, work their way up the length of my back and latch on with sudden, desperate strength. Bob buried his head against my shoulder as he held on tight. We held on for dear life, both of us offering and receiving comfort.

Who said there wasn't a first for everything?

Eventually, I had to pull back from him, the smile fading from my lips as I did so.

At seeing my expression, he frowned. "Harry? What is it?"

I couldn't answer him. Something wasn't right.

My energy was spent. Even for a spirit, I was too light and insubstantial. I felt the floor drop out from under me, watching in horror as Bob faded from my sight.

Or, more accurately, I faded from his. I heard him call my name, but I couldn’t do much more then squeak before I flickered out of existence.

~*~

The mortal world, with all its thunderous noise and blinding light pulsed back to life an instant later, leaving me gasping like a fish out of water. I grabbed my head in pain.

Bob was still standing where I’d left him, staring at the spot where I’d vanished. Somehow, the split second between my disappearance and reappearance I’d moved and was now standing directly behind him. When he heard me, he jumped and whirled around clutching his chest. After a beat, he frowned, glowering at me and my antics.

Well, maybe for him it was my antics.

“I am not amused,” he stated dryly.

I wanted to tell him that payback was a real bitch, but didn’t think I had the strength yet. So I settled on looking smug instead. He didn't need to know just how close I'd come to the point of no return. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. Instead I stood silently, my head in my hands and tried to recover from the sensory overload. It was a hell of a shock to the system. I'd just two-stepped between worlds, one filled with the simple knowledge of existence, to another of complete nothingness, and then back again.

I realize to fully comprehend that statement, a person would have to experience it for themselves. I don't recommend it. Ever.

I covered my discomfort with a flippant remark mumbled through clenched teeth. “What a rush…”

I was lying.

The ingrate, however, was busily cursing my name, my parents’ names and the whole Dresden-Morningway line.

Despite his lack of gratitude, hearing him bitch on general principle warmed my heart. That was definitely my Bob. I laughed despite the pain. Yeah, I loved him too. I even told him so. It was so much easier on this side of the fence. Certain words didn't get stuck in the throat like they used to when I'd been mortal.

They had the power to do what few things ever could. The magic behind the words stopped his scathing remarks mid-rant. His mouth agape, he stared at me all googly-eyed. He swallowed hard. It’s amazing how much power three little words have over someone - ancient sorcerer or not. I’d definitely have to remember that little trick in the future. To be forewarned was to be forearmed, and all that jazz.

Bob’s skull began to rattle beside us.

We managed to peel our eyes from one another long enough to stare at the thing. Ancient words and symbols that had been carved deep into the bone and bound spirit-to-skull glowed brightly. In an instant the carvings disappeared in a flash of golden light.

Wordlessly, I turned my attention back to Bob and grinned wide. From the look of things, he was in shock, but he wasn't frowning as he returned my gaze. I took that as a good sign.

It was then I heard an old, shaky voice. “Robert?”

We turned at the sound, and Bob tensed beside me as he glowered in the direction the voice had come from.

I turned back to him and did a double take, instantly not liking what I saw. He wasn’t bound to the skull anymore and after everything… it looked like he was catching up and realizing it too.

“Come on, it’s time to go. Take my hand.”

The atmosphere was charging around us and I knew whatever Bob was cooking up wasn’t going to be pretty. The air crackled with unleashed fury.

"Bob, stop it. This is the kind of thing that got you in trouble in the first place,” I warned.

He wasn’t listening to me.

“Come on, man. It’s over."

The energy was building. It gained strength as it swirled around us. This wasn't going to end well, after all.

I had to think fast. He wasn't going to give up his hold easily. That much was certain. I needed to break the focus of his will, but I didn't think it was wise to touch him. If I managed to break his hold by force, the possibility was there that he would inadvertently direct all that lethal killing-energy my way, and I didn't think I could handle it in my current state. I didn't want him to snap out of it only realize that he'd zapped me out of existence, my charred preternatural remains nothing more than a wisp of blackened, swirling smoke.

Instead I shouted frantic words from the past. "Let go, Bob! Bob! Let go!" They hadn't worked then, but I was hoping like hell they'd get his attention and tear through his thick skull.

To my astonishment, it worked. Well, partly anyway.

The memory was enough to break his concentration. His focus was no longer towards the bedroom. Instead it was on me. He looked at me long and hard, the dangerous energy still swirling around us. He was searching for something. What he was looking for, I wasn't sure.

I gulped, nervous to have that steely blue gaze suddenly fixed on me like it was, but it had never been in my nature to back down or show weakness. I held firm keeping my tone deadly serious, mirroring his intensity. "Bob," I warned, my manner unaffected and, above all, in control. "I told you to stop. Let him go..."

He must have found what he was looking for because the revenge he'd been preparing slowly began to dissipate from the air.

With eyes that seemed a little too bright, he let out a shuddering breath. He glanced away, turning his attention back toward Blaine's doorway.

I raised my hand up to his face and forced him to look at me. "You've tortured him long enough," I soothed, gently.

My ever vengeful spirit looked back as if to say that he didn’t agree, but he sighed and allowed me to win this particular battle of wills. Before I knew it, he'd closed his eyes and leaned his preternatural head into my hand. The gesture rattled me, but I watched as he visibly tried to pull himself together. When he finally managed, it also seemed to register with him just what exactly he'd done. Embarrassment made him fierce, and he jerked away and batted my hand from his face. "I'm not one of your endless damsels-in-distress!"

"You think I don't realize that? You think I don't know already? You think I would've risked myself to such an extent if I didn't know that you're something else entirely different?" I asked, trying to give meaning to the words I left unspoken.

Bob glared, frowning in sudden distrust. "Yes."

I scowled at him. Okay, so he had a point. A very good point. I could be driven by white knight tendencies that exasperated him on the best of days, but this night's actions had been decades in the making and fueled by more than just my passing desire to do a good deed. Not that he'd ever get me admit to it out loud. It was damn funny how he could trust me with his very existence on blind faith, but throw the guy a curve ball or two and he instantly clammed up.

I watched the gears turn, working overtime as he began planning for future moves and countermoves that already had my brain going numb. That guy had a thousand years of mental issues and experiences of past abuses by former heirs to his skull that I had to work through. Not to mention Winifred. Stars only knew what else was lurking around inside that head of his. Man oh man, but he was going to keep me busy peeling back the layers.

Patience wasn't a virtue of mine, but I had a feeling I was going to get a whole hell of a lot of tactical exercise on the concept. Knowing him, probably a crash course in guerrilla warfare tactics to boot. And why had I thought that freeing that white-haired menace such a good thing again? My head was already pounding out its own rhythm pattern in expectation of things to come.

I didn't let him see any of that. Instead I gave him a goofy grin and offered my hand out to him once more. "It's time."

Blaine's small, weak voice interrupted us as it continued to cry out for assistance. He seemed unaware of the danger he'd been in only moments before.

I felt for the guy. I really did. He killed me, but he suffered the rest of his life for it. Bob had seen to that. He might have brought much of his suffering on himself, but he was still a human being.

I still wasn't easy in my mind about what Bob had done.

Suddenly, there was a change.

I can't say what happened exactly, but when I heard Blaine's voice again, it was like some kind of button had been pushed. He no longer begged pitifully. When he called this time, his voice had found strength.

He bellowed with cruelty and spite.

It wasn't the ravings of a madman any longer. The vibe felt too different and far removed somehow.

Whether from the kind of magic I’d summoned or because the curse was broken - whatever Bob had done - or kind of hold he’d had over Blaine was gone. The man was no longer subdued.

The voice spewed forth venom and hate and every nasty thing.

And I realized that in that voice, I was hearing the echoes of what might have been. What Bob had warned me against.

I recognized Blaine for what he was - a common gangster comprised of mindless ambition and filled with both ruthlessness and greed - and the power over others that would ensure his success in all things.

I saw a tyrant who would have murdered Murphy, and many countless others because they had what it took to stand up to him.

I saw a monster that would have corrupted Murphy’s little girl - an innocent. He would have destroyed her for no other reason than because he enjoyed it.

This was darkness Bob was holding back.

I no longer pitied him. And now with Bob’s hold over him severed, I was glad that Eddie was too old and frail to do anyone harm.

Using as much energy as I dared, I managed to bump my spectral body against that damn ugly table that held Bob’s skull. My actions jarred the skull enough that it rolled from its resting place and tumbled onto the floor, taking a good-sized chunk out near an eye socket. “Sorry, Eddie. Robert doesn’t live here anymore,” I murmured.

My little moment of triumphant was marred by a chiding voice. "Really, Dresden, show some respect. I'm not even away from the blasted thing twenty minutes and you've already taken to abusing it. At the rate you're going, there won't be anything left of me for him to find in the morning."

I smirked at him, my darkening expression speaking for me. Promises, promises.

Bob bent down to inspect the damage. "My, my, my,” he tsked. “I'm betting you've wanted to do that a time or two."

I allowed the darkness to fade from my eyes and grinned at him again. My expression was so wide that it hurt. "There were days..." I finally confessed, but there was humor behind my words and I let him hear them. "You really have no idea."

Bob straightened. I was a little surprised to feel the slight brush of fingertips against mine. I looked down at our joined hands, and then up into his eyes. The affection and courage I found in those depths left me a little breathless. "Shall we?"

No words were needed between us, but I spoke them anyway.

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

The End

~*~


End file.
